


Think I'm In Love

by FallenAngelsWithMagpieWings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, coachella!au, music festival!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenAngelsWithMagpieWings/pseuds/FallenAngelsWithMagpieWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is dragged along to a music festival and is separated from his group on the first day out. Luckily show going veteran Castiel is willing to help him out, and it turns into more then Dean was anticipating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think I'm In Love

**Author's Note:**

> I've gone to Coachella for the past almost 10 years, but 2014 I was unable to do to school being a bitch-I had a ticket mind you, I just couldn't use it-so in my agitation I started up Coachella!Au's and felt like writing 'em out. The first is this and so far there are two others I may or may not get to. But anyway.  
> Here ya go.  
> Supernatural doesn't belong to me.  
> Or I Think I'm In Love which belongs to Beck  
> Coachella-alluded to but regardless-is not mine either.  
> I wrote this at 4 in the morning so mind the mistakes. I don't have a beta.

How people did this every year was beyond him. It was already an arm and a leg to attend, which was basically paying to run around in the heat, but he supposed in general it was worth it. Dean Winchester was not a music festival go-er. He enjoyed music, yes, but enough to spend three days in the desert with a mass of people? Normally, he’d say hell no. But Sam and Jess had talked him into it, urged him with the fact that other friends of their would be along, and it’d be fun, and yada yada, and here he was.

Now the problem was, Dean, lost in the sights of the large art pieces, and the many stages, and beer garden and such, found himself to be away from his group. His eyes inspected the crowd, searching and hoping to spot a familiar mop of brown hair, or blonde, or perhaps even someone spotting him.

Which was the case, it was simply the wrong person.

Dean jolted at the light tap to his arm and turned, expecting to perhaps seem Sam or one of the girls, what he was met with instead was a mess of dark hair and vibrant blue eyes that stuck out even beyond the body paint on his face. He had on cut at the knee shorts and no top, exposed skin instead littered with drawings, some smeared with sweat or water, but mostly all visible.

“You look a little lost,” the gruff voice commented, its owner giving a smile.

“Ah, yeah, bit of an understatement,” Dean sighed at his own predicament. “Need to somehow find my friends, and they aren’t answering their phones.”

“I had the same problem my first few years. That’s why me and my friends devised a plan and upon first arriving decided on an area that if we were to get lost to meet at on the hour.” The guy shrugged. “It’s easier then trying to call or look for yourself.”

“Come here often then?” Dean asked with a raised brow. He should’ve been looking for Sam, for his group, but he’d managed to somehow get tugged into the conversation.

A grin split across the guys face and he wiggled his brows. “Was that a come on?”

The blush reached all the way to Dean’s ears, and he was only glad that the sun was more then likely keeping his dignity in tack for him. “N-No! No. I just meant,” he went on before being shushed by a hand being held up.

“Hey, just kidding. No need to get freaked out. Look, how about I help you. The festival’s no fun if you’re just looking for someone the whole time.” The guy held his hand out .

“Shall we then?”

And there was a brief moment of hesitance before Dean took it.

It was then Dean realized this guy wasn’t just a frequenter, he was a usual, a veteran. As they moved through the crowd people spotted him and waved, gave hugs, shouted across the polo field, to which he happily replied, but he never stopped, and with a quick, ‘helping this guy out’ and a gesture to Dean, they nodded in understanding and told him to enjoy the festival.

Dean wasn’t sure when searching for his group turned into the guy showing him the ropes. He weaved through the crowd, told him which way to walk to avoid a mass of people, showed him the small tents he might not’ve ventured into and they even stopped to eat at one of the many food stands in the eating area.

It was then he learned the guys name was Castiel-to which he said he’d be calling him Cas and the guy just shrugged-and Castiel learned his name was Dean. They chatted and pulled out the lists of bands and talked over which they wanted to see. Their tastes were rather different, but for one at the end of the third day, they could agree on. 

Beck. A time that then cut off, where Castiel wanted to see Little Dragon and Dean wanted to see Motorhead. They both agreed to see at least Beck together, and the way Castiel said with a light smile ‘it’s a date,’ somehow made Dean blush again.

The sun had started to set, and no bands were currently on. Castiel asked if Dean had been to the tent at the far end of the festival, and Dean said he hadn’t. With a wicked grin he took Dean’s hand and tugged him on.

The last tent, or the Gobi tent, was more or less a rave. The biggest tent with insane lights going on with the music, and screens and nothing but a pulsing beat and sweaty bodies moving in time with it. 

Dean was hesitant. More then hesitant. He’d outright come to a halt when they reached it, Castiel glancing back with a raised brow. He would’ve said no. Would’ve rolled his eyes, turned around and seen a proper band, but the way Castiel tilted his head, squinted up his eyes and asked ‘what’s up?’ had him smiling and shaking his head in return as he replied, ‘nothing.’

The lights filled the tent made darker then outside. The beat sounded through the floor and while Dean could feel the press of sticky bodies about him the only one that he took note of, focussed on, that mattered, was that of Castiel, pressing in close as he swayed his hips, arms lifted above his head as he danced.

It took a lot of urging. A lot. And perhaps some forced arm lifts, for Dean to begin moving with him. Then they simply became one, pressing close, bodies grinding together, taking in each others air, Castiel staring up at Dean with half lidded eyes.

Dean wanted in that moment. He took in Castiel, sweaty hair, streaking body paint, and his eyes. His eyes that were filled with excitement, happiness, joy, energy. Everything he was told about the festival in this guy’s eyes.

He hadn’t noticed them leaning in until he was yanked back, Castiel looking confused. Dean turned, about ready to chew someone out when he spotted Sam, brow raised and eyes flicking to Cas and back.

The lights and darkness of the tent hid the blush this time. 

He moved to lean into Cas. “Have to go,” he managed to say, Cas pulling back to frown and nod. “Can I get your-,” he was about to say number when the song changed and the crowd screamed and grew more energetic and suddenly he was yanked and Castiel was disappearing among bodies. Outside the mass of people he took note of his group, Sam wiping his brow and laughing a bit at his situation. Dean however had looked back, stared at the tent, hoping to see Castiel, but he didn’t.

The rest of the night Sam questioned him about the guy he was dancing with, and the body paint he’d left all over him. 

The second day Dean spent looking for Castiel. Sure he enjoyed bands, drank with his brother and friends, danced-though not like he had the day before-but always he glanced around, looked to see the same body painted guy who’d made his first day as good as his friends had promised.

He thought he saw him once. Towards the evening, when the sun had about set, and they were in front of the second stage. They usually lingered toward the back, not wanting to be in the fray, and while Dean had been talking to Jess, on the screen that scanned the crowd he thought he saw a body painted man, blue, dark hair, and he’d turned sharply only for the camera to keep scanning.

He watched and waited through that whole band in the area the camera had been-even if it wasn’t anyone Dean would listen to and he was questioned the entire time. He waited, and waited after people dispersed, but Castiel wasn’t there.

He spent the last few bands staring up at the sky, filled with the lights of the festival and a gorgeous moon. He wondered if Castiel was bothering to stop and admire it too.

The third day left a bitter sweet taste in his mouth. This was the day he knew they wanted to see the same band. But also, this was the last day. If he couldn’t find him, the opportunity was gone, and Castiel was nothing but a guy at a festival he met once, even if it felt like more.

They went about watching bands, dancing, drinking, as they’d done the day before, though with a new last hurrah fevor. He searched, and grew less hopeful about finding him in the general area, and only hoped that Beck would be his saving grace.

Dean sat through the first two acts just to get a decent spot. Castiel was a veteran. Knew how to do things, had told him that to see someone you like you might have to wait out the previous act. So he had to be here, somewhere. As people began to fill in he glanced frantically about, his friends close, Sam questioning him again. 

“What are you looking for Dean?”

“Something.”

“Someone,” Sam corrected.

“Someone,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“That guy, from the first day, in the rave tent,”

Dean didn’t grace Sam’s words with an answer. Though the silence was answer enough.  
The show started, the crowd pushed forward, and Dean struggled to not lose his group. But it grew more apparent that standing comfortably around wasn’t going to cut it. With a last look about he sighed and urged them back to watch easier.

Agreeing, the group headed towards the back of the mob, almost within a clear area. He watched to show, as they began to play. A few songs in, and he couldn’t enjoy himself. He was upset. Castiel was gone, nothing but a brief encounter, a fantastic, but brief all the same, and gone. 

Another song had started.

“I’ll be back, don’t move,” Dean said, gesturing to the drinking area, Sam nodding. He moved off with a sigh, going in and drinking a bit as he sat down at a bench, watching Beck from afar. This weekend could’ve been great, fun, but-

“I think i’m in love, but makes me kinda nervous to say so,” a voice sang into his ear from behind. Dean turned sharply to see Castiel, beer in hand and a smile on his lips. He was freshly painted, wearing a tank top this time around. 

“Really think I better get a hold of myself,” Dean sang back as he stood from the bench, pulling Castiel close. “Don’t wanna let the night get ahead of myself.”

“Whisperin’ her love through a smoke ring smile,” Castiel went on. Dean leaned into Castiel’s ear. The words were different then those being sung but only slightly.

“He doesn’t know what happens when he’s around.” Castiel brought his free arm around the others shoulders.

“I think i’m in love.”

And Castiel eventually brought his group to meet Dean’s, they mingled, with Dean’s arms around the other. Before long, Dean and Castiel were as much a well known veteran festival couple as any, and so it wasn’t a shock to anyone, amongst the music and the lights and the moon, when a good few festivals in Dean got down on one knee. And it was even less of a shocker when Castiel said yes.


End file.
